Just a Morning
by crazymiko
Summary: YxA, just a look at a morning from Youji's PoV. Not part of a timeline.


**Title: **Just a Morning

**Author: **Crazy Miko

**Chapter: **1

**Warnings:** Yaoi

**Pairings:** YoujixAya

**Summary:** A look at a morning after a mission. Youji POV

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Weiss Kreuz; it belongs to Koyasu Takehito among others.

**Notes: //…// Flashback**

Just a Morning

            I'm not sure whether I love or hate mornings. Aya's so cruel; I have to wake up with him if I want breakfast. It's not all bad though, the Koneko is so quiet before six; it seems like we're the only people here. There's something about sitting in the kitchen and watching Aya cook that makes getting up early worth it.  Neither of us has showered yet, Aya's still walking around in the pants he went to sleep in, poor Omi would be so shocked if he caught Aya like this. I look up when Aya places my cigarettes and lighter in front of me, looks like I'm allowed to smoke this morning. The kitchen is the only place I'm allowed to when Aya's around; even then he still has to clear it first if I don't want a cup of tea upended on cigarette and self. I light one and watch the smoke curl up to the ceiling, there's a smoke stain on the ceiling above my seat; the rest of it is unmarked. How long have I had this routine? A year? Maybe a little less, it took me a few months to catch on to this ritual of Aya's. I used to think Omi was the one who got up early to make breakfast. I should have known better, the cooking wasn't like Omi's. Omi is prone to make more western meals; Aya usually makes something more traditional but with some western items. It also didn't start until Aya had been with us for awhile.

            The coffee maker gurgles as the coffee starts to drip, if I don't get my morning dose soon I'm not going to be able to stay awake. Aya lays the mugs out beside the machine; I never noticed that he always put them in a particular order. Since its Tuesday, my mug is put closest to the pot, then Omi's, then Ken's. Aya and I open today but he drinks tea, Omi will get up around six-thirty for school and Ken doesn't show up for breakfast until about seven fifteen. Aya puts some pain medicine with neatly written instructions by Ken's mug; the hot head got himself shot last night. It just grazed him so nothing important was hit; but it's going to hurt like a bitch later. I don't envy him at all. What do they do when Aya's injured? I've never known. I'm never up early enough to see how they handle it. I guess Omi does it; he's the one who brought us our breakfast that time.

//Aya looks so pale; I think this is the first mission he's been injured on since we started sleeping together regularly. He's still knocked out from the painkillers Omi gave him a few hours ago. Aya, the idiot, tried to dig the bullets out of his leg before we caught up with him. The edges of the wounds on his leg are really ragged looking; at least he didn't have time get to the one on his arm. I wish he wouldn't worry me so much. I just remembered that there's something else I need to do or I'm going to need to start worrying about my health instead. I open the window but the room still smells like smoke.  Once he's feeling better he's going to be pissed off and demand I clean his clothes so they don't "smell like an ashtray." I put out the cigarette I'm smoking; it's the fifth one I've smoked and the last one in the pack.  One of the guys knocks on the door and I tell whoever it is to come in. After a few seconds the door opens and Omi walks in with breakfast for me and some tea for Aya. Aya doesn't look like he's going to wake up anytime soon so I tell Omi to leave the teapot near the stove so I can make some more for Aya when he wakes up. Omi nods and puts the cup back on his tray. I wink at him and ask if he's ever brought a girl breakfast in bed before. He turns red and tells me to watch Aya and that the room smells terrible. I smile and say that he must have done this before; his cooking is too good to be that of a single guy's. Both Omi and I look at Aya when he groans and opens his eyes. Guess I was wrong about the painkillers, Omi must have given him the weaker ones. Omi hands Aya the tea and I ask him how he's feels. He just gives me a half hearted glare and sips his tea. He's still a little out of it, he could have at least answered me though. //  

Yeah, that one was fun. As expected, Aya was a real bastard over the smoking thing once he recovered enough to hit me. Ken was mad at me too, he got to open shop by himself that morning. It's not like I wanted Aya to be injured, I had nothing to do with that. Ken's a big boy; he can handle opening alone once in a while. Besides, how many times has he made me open alone because of Omi? Well, okay, none but it's still a possibility. At least I only miss shifts for more important things; he takes off all the time for those soccer games of his. 

You know, I would have never guessed that Aya hums when he's working on something. He hums this one tune when he's cooking, I never can figure out what it is. It's so familiar that I'm sure I've heard it before yet I can't remember the name of it no matter what. I bet he plays an instrument or at least used too, he's very music oriented. It's him who turns on the radio in the kitchen first thing in the morning and leaves it on all day. I remember one time Ken turned it off for some reason and promptly received the equivalent of a tongue lashing from Aya; a very deadly glare and the nastiest jobs in the shop along with no breakfast for a few days. Aya doesn't yell, he gets even and then some. Poor Ken never touched Aya's radio again, even Omi's afraid to ask Aya to turn it off. If you can catch Aya reading with it on, you'll find out that he taps his finger in time to the beat if he's not thinking about it. I commented on it once and he stopped immediately. I caught him doing it the next day when he thought I wasn't looking.

My pleasant thoughts are interrupted when the pan makes a sizzling sound as Aya puts some of the bacon that Omi likes in it. I scoot my chair away from the stove instantly. I have a reason for doing this, the last time I was down here and Aya was cooking bacon a grease bubble popped and some of the hot grease landed on me. Granted Aya got off worse than I did, but I'm still wary of it. That was kind of a random accident though, it had never happened before. The bacon smells good, maybe if I ask Aya real nice he'll start making it for me in the morning. Now I get the usual fare of rice, miso, and one scrambled egg with soy sauce. I know that sounds gross but soy sauce goes on everything. Besides, it's just like putting ketchup on them, only more appetizing. 

            Speaking of appetizing, the dried glob of whatever on my part of the table has got to be the most disgusting thing I've seen all week. Omi's losing his cleaning touch, either that or it's one of his hints that I should do my own chores instead of waiting for someone else to finally get tired of the mess and cleans up after me.  It's not that I'm messy; my standard of clean is just different. It's not dirty until it either starts smelling or there's enough dirt to write a haiku in. Asuka thought they were funny. My mom had a collection of Matsuo Basho's haiku, she'd read them to me before bed when I was little so I have most of them memorized. I had the most fun when the sink was dirty, I'd write "An old pond! A frog jumps in- the sound of water." Made Asuka laugh every time before she'd hand me a sponge and tell me to start cleaning. Asuka had a great sense of humor, I always knew which haiku's would make her laugh.  

            It'd be nice if Aya's domestic tendencies covered cleaning up after me. Unfortunately, he only cooks breakfast and cleans up after himself. No more, no less. He's vengeful though, you don't annoy him at night unless you want to find yourself without a good breakfast the next morning. Those days he tries out his new recipes on whoever the unlucky guy is. His ability to pick the ones with the food you hate the most is amazing; I never knew that Aya could make grits. If I asked him to clean up after me, he'd give me the "shi-ne" glare and make me grits for breakfast for at least a week along with whatever else he can come up with. Aya's not the domestic type, not by far. 

            Aya scrapes my egg out of its pan before moving on to the next pan on the range. He's so cruel, making me wait until he finishes everyone else's breakfast before letting me eat mine. He pokes at some brown stuff in one of the larger pans with a relatively dubious expression on his face; I hope it's not for me. I haven't done anything to him lately to deserve being a guinea pig. He gives it one last good poke before picking up a bite and carrying it over to where I'm sitting. Despite my better judgment I open my mouth obediently and chew. It's not like it would do me any good to resist, Aya'd probably just force feed me then. Surprisingly, it's not bad. I ask Aya what it is. He says they're called hash browns, and that Omi requested them. I remember them now; my dad didn't like them much so I never really had them. I tell him they need some salt and Aya nods before turning back to his cooking, ignoring the salt shaker as expected. He never pays attention to my advice; sometimes I wonder why he even bothers to ask.

            I pour myself a cup of coffee when our ancient coffee maker finally brews a cupful. We need to buy a new one but Aya's so stingy, maybe if it got into an "accident" he'd let us buy a new one out of the shop profits. At least he always remembers to put out my favorite mug for me in the morning. There's nothing too special about it, it's oversized and white with my dad's alma mater's name written on it in red lettering. It's not the original mug; I bought it awhile ago to replace the one I lost when I joined up with Kritiker and had to leave all my old stuff behind. I wonder what dad's doing now; he was on a three month long business trip in America when Asuka was shot. He didn't find out about it until after I had already been legally declared dead. He might have found out about it sooner if mom had still been alive; she'd been dead for at least a year though when it happened. Maybe I wouldn't have joined Kritiker if one of them had been around then. Not like it really matters though, I should have just called my dad instead of wallowing in self-pity. I sort of miss him but he was never around that much, I don't really know him.

            Sitting here waiting for my food leaves me more quiet time to think than I am starting to believe I like. I haven't thought about my dad in a long time, meaning a few months or so. Aya makes this all worth it though, there's something that's just nice about being here with him in the morning and eating breakfast together. It something that's normal, something that everyone else does that we can still do. However, we don't really look normal, how many people come down to breakfast covered in bruises and scrapes? Aya looks terrible; his chest appears almost spotted between the bruises from his close range fights and the bruises from the bullets. I'm glad they finally made it a requirement for us to wear bullet proof vests. Aya wouldn't be here today otherwise, he's lucky none of them managed to score a hit anywhere else. I'm not that great looking either; my hair's a mess and I have a split lip. I have a few scratches and bruises also, but nothing as pronounced as Aya's.

            Not all of Aya's bruises are from the mission though, there's a line of them on his neck I put there myself. When we got back last night we just rinsed off and checked each other for wounds, which led to other things pretty quickly. Facing death does wonders for the libido. Aya doesn't seem to mind the marks though; he hasn't glared at me and threatened my manhood yet so I'm assuming he's okay with them. He's also walking around shirtless, if he didn't want them to be seen he would have put on that ugly orange sweater of his.

            Aya gives all the pans one more rather vicious poke with the cooking chopsticks before turning the heat on low to keep the food warm for the other two. He puts a plate of rice, eggs, and hash browns in front of me and a plate with just rice and eggs on the table in front of his seat. He goes back to the stove to get the two bowls of miso and utensils. He stops in front of me and stares for a moment before putting down my miso and going to his seat. I wonder what that was about; I know I don't look that bad today. Aya's so weird; I never know what he's thinking. He's feeling generous though, he made me some hash browns. Normally he hates making anything new; asking for another portion is like asking for a miracle. I wonder if he used to cook for his sister, she probably loved it. I bet the restaurant he worked at was sad when he was declared "dead" after the explosion; he must have been one hell of an asset.

            I wave my chopsticks in front of him to catch Aya's attention. He looks at me like I'm an idiot and I complement his cooking. Now he's really looking at me like I'm stupid. The man can't take praise, he just can't. I finish it up with a joke about him making a good wife. His usual scowl reappears after that and he tells me to shut up and eat. For good measure he flicks a piece of egg at me when I keep grinning at him. He's pretty good with chopsticks, the egg bit landed on my shirt with amazing accuracy. Maybe I can get him to take a shower with me after we eat. After all, he did just get me dirty by throwing food at me. He should know better, I'm sure his mom told him not to throw food.

            We got a late start this morning; Omi's just now making his way downstairs. He's up a little earlier than usual, he mentioned something last night about making up the test he missed. Guess he must have had one yesterday, the mission required him to be on site during the day though. School is second to missions when you've got an organization like Kritiker breathing down your neck. I just hope the kid doesn't rack up too many sick days, it'd be sad to see him have to drop out. He enjoys school so much too; he gets to have a semi normal life there. Aya doesn't even look up from his breakfast when he tells Omi that he's already written him a note for yesterday. Omi thanks him and gets his own breakfast off the stove and sits with us. When's the last time I ate breakfast with someone else? A month? Two months? I don't remember. It's been a while though; I forgot that Omi always takes three sips of coffee before starting on his miso. He's going to stunt his growth; I think it's a little too late to tell him that. The damage has already been done; he'll be that short forever.

             Omi finishes his breakfast quickly with a soft reminder to Aya that'll he'll be home early and that the redhead shouldn't worry about the outside plants, he'd move them on his way out. Aya nods and tells Omi not to forget the note before continuing to poke at his own breakfast. I tell the kid bye and not to break too many hearts today. He tells me that not everyone is after a quick tumble and that some people have standards. His comebacks are getting better, the kid's finally starting to grow up. He sticks his tongue out at me before he leaves; I take that back about him growing up. I knew better than to think Omi would give up his little bit of immaturity so easily. 

            He treats Aya so well; he never moves the plants for me. I guess he doesn't want Aya overexerting himself too much, he did take a bit of a beating last night. I'm never sure who's in charge, Aya and Omi hand that role to each other often. It's not like it really matters, as long as we all come back alive I don't care who's in charge at the moment. Though it would probably help to know sometimes, like when your lover is planning to send you to take care of things on the inside…of a gay bar that is. Why does Manx always give us missions where someone has to work somewhere that the target frequents? It's just not fair, especially when the target likes gay bars.  Now, okay, I sleep with Aya so why should that be a big deal? Let me reiterate, I sleep with Aya. He is most unappreciative of my knack for collecting dates and phone numbers. A little warning would have been nice on that one, just because I'm bi doesn't mean I'm willing to just prance right into a gay bar. I have a reputation to maintain in other parts of town and if someone saw me there a lot of hard work could be undone; half of the hard work being my reputation, the other half my relationship with Aya. He always finds out about everything, he'd know if I was flirting just a little bit too much with someone even from all the way across Tokyo. The man has a sixth sense when it comes to that sort of thing; Aya-chan must have hated it.

            It's always hard to get that last bit of egg; it keeps sliding through the soy sauce every time I go to pick it up. Aya's watching with some interest, he finds it amusing to see me lose to food. Of course, like every day I give up on using the chopsticks and just pick it up with my fingers. Who needs table manners? Aya smirks a little then takes his plate to the sink and washes it, he never washes my plate. I guess that's his way of saying he's willing to cook me breakfast but that's it. I just put my plate in the sink, I can wash it later. Aya sighs a little when he sees it, maybe one day he'll get me to do my own dishes but that day is a long way off. Leaning against the counter I ask Aya if he wants to grab a shower before work. He just looks at me for a minute before the corner of his mouth twitches as he tries not the smile. It's hard to look sexy the morning after a mission. But, he's being indulgent and agrees. Hmm, pre work shower with a cooperative Aya; not a bad morning after at all.


End file.
